Killing the King
by Kitty O
Summary: He handed off his own sword and whipped out his knife, putting it to Arthur's throat. "You're dead," he said, gloating. -no slash, oneshot.


Night was darker than usual, or so it seemed. There was no moon in the sky, though the torches of Camelot burned as bright as ever—and yet somehow seemed muted. It was like someone with a wicked sense of humor had covered everyone's eyes with velvet.

It seemed darker than normal, was the bottom line, but that could be a good thing.

It was good for three men who stood outside the walls of Camelot that night, all in black. Any flashy colors were gone from their wardrobe, and the only brightness about them that might attract the eye were the hilts of the swords at their waists. The small, dark one also had a knife at his side. The stocky one had a knife hidden in his boot as well as several pouches of herbs that could knock a person out hidden in a pocket. The big one had no need of further weapons; he claimed they slowed him down and got in the way. But he consented to carry the rope.

All three were milling about, checking pockets, smiling into the darkness when certain thoughts flickered through their heads. Without any noise, all three suddenly stiffened, and the mood changed to one of action.

The biggest and smallest one turned to the stocky one at once, for he was the unofficial leader of their small group.

He nodded at them both without speaking and made several hand motions. He pointed to the small one and then a certain part of the wall of Camelot. He pointed to himself and another section of wall on the opposite side of the gate, and finally indicated that the largest man was to take the gate.

The other two seemed to agree to this plan of action.

The large one immediately went for the gate. They were open this night, granting access into Camelot—there was no threat or war, so people could enter. But there were guards, and anyone suspicious would be questioned.

The large man made sure his comrades were positioned on either side of the gates in the darkness before he went in, exposing his hooded form to the torches and the guard's eyesight.

Immediately one approached. "What's your business?" he asked in a crisp tone, and the large man smiled beneath his hood. That was the voice of Ashby, a guard of Camelot—diligent and smart.

The large man couldn't talk and reveal himself, so instead he turned toward Ashby and stepped forward.

The guard stepped back and drew his weapon, unnerved by the silence.

And then Large's two friends stepped from the darkness. Two blows landed, and the two guards crumpled at once.

The stocky man leant over Ashby's unmoving form. "I hit him in the temple," he said. "Dead."

Small stepped back from his victim. "Just unconscious," he said.

Stocky waved at the unconscious guard with disdain, and Small nodded, pulling out a knife and swiping it down. "Now he's dead," he told the leader.

"Can we go in this way?" Stocky asked Large, who stepped forward and peered into the road.

"Two more guards," he announced. "Too far away to attack. If they run, they could sound the alarm."

Stocky cursed. "We can't let the alarm be sounded." As if the others didn't know that.

Small suddenly started. "I have an idea. Got any rope?"

Large threw it to him. Small studied it. "Okay," he said, and went back outside the gate. He was glad the rope was long as he tied the end of it firmly about his waist and then eyed the part of the top of the wall which jutted out. Handing the other end of the rope to Stocky, he asked, "Can you loop this around that so the end of the rope comes back to us?"

Stocky nodded. "What about the guard? Won't he see it?"

"He passed by barely five minutes ago," Large inserted, and so Stocky did as his friend had asked, creating a sort of untied lasso and catching the part of the wall when he threw it. The end of the rope was out of Stocky's reach but within Large's, so the biggest, blond man took it in his hands. "Now what?"

"I'm going to walk up the wall. You'll pull me. Then, I'll use a rock or something to distract the guards while you two get in. I'll climb down the stairs and get in."

"We'll be unable to meet up until we reach the king's chambers," the large man warned.

"I'll make it," Small insisted, smiling coolly.

Stocky patted him on the shoulder. "This is why you are the tradesman. Start walking."

In minutes, Small had walked up the wall of Camelot, a rock clenched in his hand. His cloak flapped behind him, not touching his body as gravity pulled it down towards the earth. But he clenched the rope and kept moving. As soon as the pulling side of the rope had reached a length where the stocky man could assist the large one in pulling, he did so. Soon enough the dark man was over the edge.

The two other men waited for the rope to fall back over the edge, and Large caught it. Both men then headed for the gate, then, leaning subtly against the wall and watching the two guards in the road.

Eventually they both moved, distracted, and started away from the gate—off to investigate a noise, no doubt. Here was their chance.

Stocky grinned at the guards on the ground. "As you were," he said, and the two intruders slipped into Camelot.

"How long has it been?" Stocky asked.

"Ten minutes," Large answered. "Now to get in the castle."

Stocky closed his eyes. "We'll pass ten guards if all goes according to plan," he said. "Four of them have rounds, so they can be more easily avoided. The king's door should be unlocked."

"If it isn't, his servant has the key," the large one pointed out. "Do we get the key before or after we try the door? Just in case?"

Stocky paused as they slipped into an alley and down another street, fleeing towards the castle with silent footsteps. "We will force the king's door. He can't sound the alarm if he's inside."

"He could fight back if he woke up and heard…"

"There will be three of us," Stocky said arrogantly. "He's not _that_ good and he's unarmed."

"The queen?"

"If she's there, that shouldn't make it too much harder. She's unarmed as well."

Large nodded. He moved without too much grace, but quietly, whereas his companion slipped along like slime with a large smile dominating his time.

"You're enjoying this," his large friend suddenly accused.

"Oh, hugely," Stocky promised, winking. "Now quiet!"

Getting into the castle was no problem at all, since so much of it was open to the outside. The two men kept their eyes open and their swords out as they went. The first several guards were no problem, because they didn't see the attack coming. "Dead," was announced over each of them.

Then one caught sight of them, and he tried to fight. When it was clear he was overpowered, he tried to run, but the large man caught him and threw him into a wall. Stocky caught up, swung his sword, and it was over.

Stocky's eyes lit up. "I don't get to do this often enough," he said with a laugh. "Let me go first."

He continued down the hall. Turning the corner, he started to lead the way down the next part of the castle, when he heart footsteps behind him.

"What are you…?" a voice called, and Stocky swept around, letting his hood fall and revealing his stubborn jaw and long hair to the quickly approaching servant with the neckerchief.

The servant stopped short. "Gwaine," he said with a gasp. "I thought Arthur…" But Merlin stopped himself, steeling his whole body. And then he pulled back his hand as his face hardened, his eyes like blue flints. He opened his mouth to cast a spell.

And promptly collapsed into the waiting arms of the large man, who had just hit him about the head from behind.

"Thanks, Percival," Gwaine said, taking a deep breath. "Why is _Merlin _still awake?" he asked, panic in his tone.

Percival deposited Merlin on the ground. "Chores?" he guessed. "That means… Arthur's awake still?" He looked up, his alarmed eyes meeting Gwaine's wide ones.

"We're early," Gwaine whispered. "Too late. They could catch us at any time. Hurry!"

Gwaine turned on his heel and ran the rest of the way, Percival at his heels, having jumped over Merlin's crumpled form.

They met Elyan in the hall containing Arthur's chambers, and all three pulled up short, gasping with exertion.

"I ran into Leon!" Elyan said. "He's dead, but why was he even up?"

"We're early," Gwaine said. "We met Merlin. That means that Arthur…"

"Might come out of his chambers," Elyan finished. "We need to hurry."

They turned as one and went towards Arthur's chambers. Elyan watched their backs, taking down his hood, while Percival and Gwaine pushed themselves against the door. Percival put his ear to the wood. "Talking," he whispered. "The queen."

Gwaine was testing the doorknob. "It isn't locked."

He risked opening the door and fraction and peering in. He couldn't see much, but he spotted Gwen reclining on the bed, in a nightgown.

He looked back at his companions. "She's on the bed. She's looking like he's on the right of it, our right, and he's probably in nightwear as well. Everyone know what we're doing?"

The others nodded.

So Gwaine threw open the door and let hell break loose silently.

All three men rushed in at once, and Gwen squawked, sitting up and pulling her robe closed. Arthur started, and indeed, he had on a loose white shirt, trousers, and no sword belt.

"Guards!" the king yelled.

Elyan closed the door and grabbed the key on a table, locking it from the inside. (Lucky it was within reach, he thought as the king yelled again and somewhere, warning bells began to toll.)

As Percival and Gwaine headed for the king, he jumped across the room and drew his sword, pointing it at his knights. "You set off the alarm," he said.

Gwaine grinned and lifted his own sword. "Too late to matter now. Fight to the death, I suppose?"

Gwen jumped from the bed as the first _clang_ of swordplay reached her ears. She looked around a little desperately as Arthur held off two attackers. In her own room, she had several weapons hidden. But this wasn't hers. She didn't know where all of Arthur's weapons were hidden, she realized, chagrined, since he hadn't shown her. And there was Elyan now, reaching for her.

At least it was her brother who got her, she thought with a mental sigh as he grabbed her wrists and she wriggled to get away.

But then a blade was at her throat and she was forced to be still. "Don't move, Gwen. Hands up," he warned her, and glanced down. "Well, you can hold your robe."

"Thanks," she remarked sarcastically, and did just that.

"Arthur!" Elyan called, pulling her close to himself and brandishing his weapon. "Surrender, or your wife dies."

Arthur looked up and cursed. "That's not fair," he complained as he immediately dropped his sword to the ground. "That's cheating."

Gwaine came forward at once as he heard a small explosive sound from the door behind his back. He handed off his own sword and whipped out his knife, putting it to Arthur's throat.

"You're dead," he said, gloating.

"No, he isn't," said a voice from the doorframe. Gwaine whipped around to see the warlock standing in the doorway, glaring, with the open door's lock smoking behind him. He lifted his hand. "I just smashed you into the wall."

Gwaine stepped back from Arthur, letting the king retrieve his sword. "No," he said. "He was dead first. Mortally wounded, at least. Anyway, that's not fair! You're still unconscious!"

The bells stopped ringing in the background.

Merlin looked affronted. "No," he said. "I waited seven minutes. Percival didn't hit me hard enough to be unconscious for longer than that."

Elyan released Gwen, and she went back to the bed and climbed on top, sitting up. "Merlin got here in time," she said.

"No, he didn't," Elyan argued.

Arthur glared. "Merlin, look what you did to my door!"

"Anyway," Merlin said to Gwaine. "We can discuss that later. It's not important. The point is, Arthur, do you see what we were saying? Whether or not you were killed, three men were able to sneak into Camelot without sounding the alarm and make it to your chambers."

"My door, Merlin," Arthur deadpanned.

"I'll fix it later," Merlin said impatiently. "You get my point? I was knocked unconscious. And what about the guards?"

"Ashby and his friend at the gate would have been killed," Gwaine said, counting on his fingers. "Percival and I technically would have killed six more guards, though I think that one with the wall might just have been badly wounded." He handed his blunt knife over to Merlin, who had lent them out, as did the others.

"I got three," Elyan said. "And Leon. Killed him from behind. He's going to make me pay for that in training tomorrow, you know."

"But they have a knight's knowledge of Camelot," Arthur argued.

"An intruder might as well," Merlin said smugly.

"You knew they were coming, so you made it easier for them!" Arthur snapped.

"No, princess," Gwaine inserted, sitting down on Arthur's bed and earning a glare for his dirty robes. "Actually we were just told to do it sometime this month. We picked the day ourselves. All the guards were told was to act as if we were attackers in this case, but not really try to kill us, and if we announced them dead they played along until we moved past."

Arthur wiped his blond hair out of his face and took in the grins on the faces of his three knights and Merlin's serious-but-amused look. "Okay," he conceded. "We'll come up with a better plan for guarding the castle, and Merlin, you can help me. You three can help with the training."

Gwaine whooped in victory.

Merlin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Good," he said with a smile. "Next, we see how Camelot can keep a sorcerer from sneaking in, currently."

"Oh, no, _Merlin_," Arthur complained while Gwen giggled. "You can't…"

"It's for your safety, Sire! Do you think it will be _fun _for me?" Merlin kept his eyes wide and innocent. Gwaine and Percival laughed. "Gwen, tell your husband we're keeping your both safe by taking precautions…"

"All right, enough, Merlin!" Arthur roared, starting to smile. "I have to be attacked again, I suppose, then. What night?"

"Can't tell you that," Merlin said, putting his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth. "Gotta be a surprise."

"How do the stocks all week sound, you stubborn…" Arthur started with no real malice as the knights crept out of the room and Gwen sat back, ready to enjoy and then stop the fight brewing in her favorite boys' eyes.

"Your safety is my only priority, Sire!"

"_Mer_lin_…_"

* * *

**A/N: End. Did you like it? Did I drag out the mystery too long? I've been wanting to write this oneshot for a while! I'm curious, though. Did anyone notice something was wrong in the first 500 words? If so, you have a good memory and you've read more of my stories than you probably should have. (Because as I know and you probably don't remember, Ashby the OC actually dies saving Merlin's life and not while guarding Camelot.) Drop me a review!**


End file.
